songbird

you grip the steering wheel tightly, breathing through your mouth.

in your head, it plays all over again — like that one old vinyl record he puts on whenever he’s in your room.

 

☼

 

 when you first met him in your math remedial classes, and he had that ridiculously hot pink beanie atop his head. he paired it with his boxy grin.

 

☼

 

he had a way of looking at you as though the world was out completely out of view. whenever you would talk, he would keep his eyes on you with an intense gaze. at first, it was intimidating — but you just realized that it was his way of showing he was engrossed. interested.

listening.

he always listened.

he still does.

 

☼

 

there some kind of peacefulness when being with him, even if many of those times are spent not talking. he would just sit beside you and randomly play with your fingers, it made you feel contented.

(“you know how i feel about you, right? i don’t need to say it out loud?”

“i love you, too.”)

 

☼

 

his favorite spot in the whole world would be this one spot at the beach, where there’s this huge boulder that seems to be overlooking the entire sea. he would stand there, hands on waist and head held up high. it made him look a bit childish, but you knew it was part of the charm. it made him endearing even more.

and then he’d help you get up to that spot and would sit beside you there, just watching the sun sink as everything transitions into the night. throughout, he’d be holding your hand.

 

☼

 

he has this one vinyl record he would keep playing on your player whenever he was around your room. the one by fleetwood mac. you never really understood that album’s charm, and how come he was so enamored with it when he it in your library.

(not until now, anyway.)

 

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